


Conflict

by Nekokuroo



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: F/F, F/M, For the most part, Langst, M/M, Major Original Character(s), Sex at some point, Slow Burn, and mallura is present, at some point, bitch, but hunray, coran is present yay, ghoul au, ill put trigger warnings!!, its canon king, keith is half ghoul, klance, klance is main focus, klangst, lance/pidge/hunk are human, major character death but later, orignal charas, shiro is a ghoul
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2019-02-13 01:08:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12972387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nekokuroo/pseuds/Nekokuroo
Summary: in a world riddled with conflict, only the strong survive.





	Conflict

In a world riddled with conflict, only the strong survive.

We live in secrecy, only telling the stories of our people through mouth and ear. Ghouls, as I am partly, are referred as rodents. Something that is devoid of human emotion and has the same amount of worth as a rat. We are what many call the scum of the earth, only because we are far stronger and can only eat those weaker than us. And coffee of course, but have you ever seen a well adjusted person, or ghoul for that matter, that's drunk only coffee for their entire lives? 

I am, however a half ghoul. Half ghouls are not only rare but also extremely strong. My mother was a ghoul and my father was a human. Somehow, they fell in love and by all odds of it not happening, had me. It is incredibly rare that a human and a ghoul can conceive. The bloodlines are hard to mix without killing each other in the womb, it's extremely sad but apparently very common in ghoul human relationships. Not that I've heard of many working out. Mother was a good woman. She never prayed on the living, rather went though the backdoors of deaths of unfortunates. Unlike me. 

Being a half ghoul makes me more hunted, not only by many of the folk of ghouls, but also by the humans too. They want to erase my existence. People want to shove it under the back door and want it to be kept that quiet ghouls and humans can be on the same wavelength. I've know the dangers for a long time, and I've had to do some things that I regret with my whole soul. Eating other ghouls isn't easy, but my Kakuja is the most valuable weapon sworn to keep my fate sealed to live a long life. 

I can't count how many ghouls I've eaten, betrayed and had to say goodbye to.

I don't want to do this anymore, it gets boring after a while. Eating people is never fun, but only the strongest can. 

But my question is, if I'm so obviously strong, why am I falling for this sweet barista at the cafe I visit everyday?

His name is Lance, or at least that's what his name tag says. I order the same thing everyday from him, and sit in corner where the sun shines hottest. I bask in it, it provides a solace that only a ghoul can feel the full safety of. 

Sometimes though, I'll sit closer to the front to see Lance make little cakes, not that I can eat them of course. I just enjoy watching him do something he enjoys. They always smell so sweet, something I wouldn't have even eaten when I was younger and could stomach that sort of thing. But he does it with a sort of innocence, something I wish I still had. the most wanted SS ranked ghoul can have many things, but innocence is just not one of them. I wish I could just go sit and make cakes all day and not worry about my life ahead, that sort of thing is just not cut out for a ghoul. 

The table slightly creaks, the magazines look like they're from the 80s and the chairs are wonky too. But the place has a homely feeling. Lance looks like what I would think honey tastes like. As I observe him i can see he's never fought a day in his life. His skin is smooth and the only thing that dots it as his freckles. 

A young girl walks in. She's pretty, has long black hair and beautiful blue eyes that almost compare to lances. 

'Hello! The names Lance, what can I get you today?' lance exclaims, beaming that type of smile that makes you close your eyes in the process. It looks so cute on him. 

'uhm..' the girl starts, visibly stunned by either his looks or his kindness 'I'll have a black bean coffee to go' she averts her eyes for a split second 'actually, to stay. I'll have it here' 

Why would I be so stupid? He can't be that good looking and not have any girls thinking he's nice. 

'Coming right up! Hunk one black bean staying in!' He shouts out back to most likely Hunk, who was a guy who served me once or twice before. 'Just take a seat, I can remember your face I'll bring it right over to you.' 

The girl gives a curt nod and a thank you, and trots off to the seat behind me. When she sits down I can feel her ghoul presence. Us ghouls can tell each other by just a sniff. I know she can tell mine, and with one sniff comes everything about me, including my ultimate rank of SS. Most wanted ghoul in the city. It's probably intoxicating for her. Sure enough, I can hear her get up and move another two seats back. 

Lazily taking a sniff of the air, I can tell she’s a b rank. Low, but not low enough to not hunt humans rather than buy the meat through the back doors. Oh well, she doesn’t pose a threat. I’m pretty full at the moment anyway. Ghouls only need to eat every month or so. We can eat more if we want, like I did to increase my survivability even more. But that sort of thing is excessive, only A ranks or higher only do that sort of thing. 

Lance waltzes out of the kitchen after that. He’s carrying a mug with what I guess is black coffee, exactly how I take mine, and a small petite cake. That must be for the girl. She ordered it right? No, she didn’t did she. Then who’s that cake for?

It hits me like how an overwhelming ghoul scent does, he’s taken an interest in this girl that ordered from him. I guess I should leave, I hate being vulnerable like this.

Gathering my coat and sliding a tip into my hand I’m almost ready to leave when I hear the girl chittering behind me to Lance.

‘Oh! I didn’t order a cake’ she says that so sweetly. So innocently, calm and collected almost.

‘Oh I know, it’s for someone else. Enjoy your coffee!’ 

Wow, he just effectively shut her down. That’s amazing, I wish I had that bubbly effect on people.

Sitting down again and gathering the coat to my side of my left thigh, I wonder who the cake is for then. If it’s not for her, who’s it for? Who could the cake be for if it’s no-

Lance sits down in the seat opposite to me. Sliding the cake towards me, he smiles. Smiles! That smile I’ve looked at so much. 

Pushing a hand through his hair I can see his widows peak. He shuffles to make himself comfortable and finally rests an elbow on the edge of the table, maybe a few solid inches away from the plate. As he does the the wonky leg of the table shifts and he makes a funny face at me. It makes me giggle of all things.

‘You always order coffee, so I thought maybe today you’d be hungry!’ He beams. It never occurred to me that the cake would be for me, this is an odd feeling. One small problem although, I can’t eat the whole thing. I’ll just be sick, I can eat little bites but not the sizes of slices lance serves. 

‘uh- i- thank you’ fidgeting with my hands again. Such a bad habit, it’ll stab me literally in the back in the field ‘would you want to share it with me?’ 

God that was dumb, the dumbest thing I’ve ever said. But I guess it’s a good excuse not to eat the whole thing if he says no. I can kind of stomach that sort of thing until I can go home and vomit it up. Lance just smiles fondly, as if it weren’t the most awkward thing ever.

Speaking of awkward, I can smell the rage from the girl who thought the cake was from her.

‘Sure!’ He picks up the fork and slides off a delicate piece of the cake. ‘Say ah!’ 

Oh my god, is he feeding me? I tilt my mouth open and cross my arms over the table to lean forward. Laughing slightly but as kind as one can be as he sees me lean forward, he slides the fork into my mouth and proceeds to remove it promptly after I’ve taken the cake from it. I chew and swallow as slow as I can bare, the dry ashy taste is horrible. 

Small talk, Shiros voice echoes in my head, small talk. I can do that right? Small talk, about the small things? No I can’t. I don’t think I can, but I have to try so I don’t bug him anymore about not having someone to love. No more whining about not getting laid. I can almost hear his nagging.

I start, well, small. 

‘My name is Keith by the way, just thought maybe you’d think it was the name id go by for ordering coffee.’ I’ve heard that before right? That’s a thing that normal people do, pretend to have an easier name for the barista. Right? Or am I being delusional. I say this in a hushed tone although. I don’t want that girl hearing my real name.

‘Oh!’ He laughs ‘Good to know, my name is lance.’ The sentence seems short although, cut off even. So I look up to him in inquisition.

‘My name is lance and I really love cats, but I don’t have any at the moment, my best friends names are pidge and hunk and I really love my mama and papa.’

He finishes with a slight wheeze and a pant. His face is flushing a pinkish colour, it makes me feel a little better. Wow, is he embarrassed too? Gosh that’s the cutest thing, that he loves his mother and father. The innocence from this boy is oozing. 

‘Well, my name is Keith. I uh, am studying Studio Arts at school, like watching you make cakes’ I can feel the blush creeping up my neck. ‘and I really like cats too’. 

I think I can leave the part where I eat human bodies as a hobby. 

Both of us are awkward messes. That, I’ve concluded. 

We talk for a bit longer before his boss comes and grabs him to come back to the counter. Matt, he said his name was. He leaves with a huge apology for eating “my” cake, and a brush of his fingers against mine. I sit there with the almost empty coffee mug; He was so- gods, what’s the word for it? Ah it might be sweet. Sweet, I must use that word more now I know a feeling of it rather than a taste. 

Finishing my coffee, I say goodbye to lance as I head out. The door jingles as I walk out into the cold, the air is bitter and bites the tip of my nose.

I promised Shiro I’d help him out tonight, he hasn’t eaten in a while. A month perhaps, so I said we’d go together and I could help him. It’s really gross, human hunting and all, and Shiro insists that we always pick the oldest person rather than the younger. I don’t personally care. My taste is usually in other ghouls so I just eat his scraps for the fill ups. But still, it tastes like maybe my second favourite dish. If people were dishes. I don’t even know anymore.

Step by step I make it home. The rushing cars and the cold sleet make it not the most enjoyable walk home, but I have the warm feeling of Lance’s hand still on my knuckles, and that keeps me going. I’m not wearing my gloves today, thank god, or I wouldn’t have felt the soft touch of the pads of his fingers. 

I press my fist to my mouth and kiss it, and to my surprise it smells slightly like Lance. It must be his cologne or something, nonetheless it makes my face heat up even in the coldest weather.

I find myself in front of my building, I must’ve dazed off thinking about things and made it here. I make my way up the wet stairs and look at the city below me. It’s starting to shine at this hour, the peak time for ghouls to hit the streets. I edge open the door and take off my shoes while Shiro greets me.

‘Hey there Keith.’ Polite as always, but caring even if he takes human lives. ‘Your stuff is on your bed; and don’t forget to tuck that hair up.’ Leaving with a wave to the kitchen. Maybe he’s cleaning something, or cooking for our neighbours. 

I nod, and walk up our little flat to my room. It’s a two story apartment, my bedroom and bathroom up top and everything else down bottom. Though, Shiro spends most of his nights out and his sleeping hours at the place he works. 

He’s one of the few ghouls I know that doesn’t have a cover up job but an actual real thing. He works real hours in the office. Most of us just work as hitmen for the cash. I mean, who would hire someone with a gun if you could just have some mutant take your husband out, AND eat the evidence? 

I spend my spare time playing video games and racking up the money there though. Shiro always gives me numbers and details and I only go if I need the food. My days of feeding my kakuja are over. It’s evolved to its full capacity, and I don’t need to go though any more pain than I already do. Anyway, I sometimes stream and all that using a voice modifier and no face cam. I have a few fans here and there but all I really care about it taking my mind off the lives I’ve taken. 

I’m a shaky and a flawed person you see, just because I do bad things doesn’t mean I wanted to do any of them. What I wouldn’t give to become a normal human. Not this half breed that I am.

Pushing open my bedroom door I see that Shiros put out the whole thing for me. I’m one of the only ghouls I know that wears a full suit when fighting, but it’s an effective way to not ruin any of your clothes. Shiro says it’s ridiculous. The backless suit is compact and armoured, and the mask and the chest plate even light up when wanted to. I wear a jacket over the back so it does look weird without my kakuja. 

I go into, how do I say this, a fit when I transform. That’s why I do it less and less these days. Shiro is the only person that can calm me down. It’s said that the only people that can calm Kakujas are ones that the host has the most feelings for. 

I slip on the jumpsuit and the plates that go around it, and attach the face mask to the clip below the belt. I then slide on the large black jacket to mask the skin tight clothes I’m wearing and the backless scar that surfaces the eyes of what the back of my head see. Then, I carefully pin the back of my hair up; there’s very few people with a mullet, as Shiro calls it these days.

I can almost hear him once again, saying that it’s not the sixties anymore! Cut it off!

I tie my shoes on and double knot them like a child when I can hear Shiro beckoning me to be more ready. We have to get normal groceries too, it’s a sort of alibi for the pair of us. Although we’ve never got caught; it’s nice to have a back up.

Thundering down the stairs in a flurry and looking Shiro in the eye, I push my hood onto my head. We don’t have much chatter when we know what we have to do on nights like these. It’s always light and trying not to make the mood more damp than it already is.

Tonight is going to be a long night none the less.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading my first chapter of my Tokyo ghoul inspired klance fanfic! This was inspired by twitter and I’m proud to announce that I’ve finnaly uploaded it after like a whole month of deciding to write it lol. I’ll try to update regularly but like many things in my life it’s a mess lol. Anyway if you wanna yell at me for how slow I am contact me on Instagram @takumi.keith and I’ll cry with you. Comments and kudos are extremely appreciated as this not only helps with my ego but my school work also. THANK YOU!


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